The Child of Her Parents
by Rose of the West
Summary: Two people find themselves under the mistletoe. Did that night make all the difference?
1. How it Began

_Disclaimer: The people and world used in this story are the creation and property of JK Rowling._

_Warning: This flies in the face of some dearly loved fanon. This is not intended as an insult to such theories, but simply offered as another possibility of what might have happened._

They ran into each other in Hogsmeade. It wasn't so odd for him to be there. He was visiting the Potions Master to confer on a research project he was doing. This particular branch of work involved meeting with Professor Slughorn at least twice a month. Her reasoning was a bit hazy. She and Potter were on the outs at the moment, yet another spat in their endless rounds of arguments and passion. She would be meeting a friend who was now a seventh year during Hogsmeade Weekend the next afternoon.

She smiled and her green eyes twinkled. He was lost, as always, and asked her to have a drink at the Three Broomsticks. The drink turned into dinner. Her eyes twinkled and sparkled and her hair shone. He sat and adored her, the harsh glint of his eyes changing to a shine under her influence. After hours of eating and drinking and talking together, they walked each other up the stairs.

They found themselves under mistletoe in the hallway. He was embarrassed and unsure.

"Lily, we don't have to--"

"Nonsense, Severus. Custom must be followed. Who knows what dire fate might await us if we don't?" She stood on tiptoe to reach her hands around his neck and tug his lips down to her own. Neither noticed the berry that fell from the bunch of mistletoe and slid down the collar of Lily's robe. Had they noticed, they would have laughed and scorned the Muggle legend about taking a mistletoe berry for fertility.

It was the heaven he had waited half his life for. He would kiss her until she pushed him away. She didn't push him away. Instead she took a step closer and nestled into his body. He found that his arms were around her and then they were moving, together, toward his room.

She started unfastening his robe. He should stop her, but he wasn't even sure what was happening, if it was really happening. She pushed the garment down his arms and then leaned back to smile up at him. He wasn't sure what she wanted until she took his hands and put them on the fastenings of her robe.

"Are—are you sure?" he asked breathlessly.

She kept smiling and nodded, then started working on the buttons of his clothing. He undid her robe and helped her out of it and then looked at her. Her dress set off a slim figure. They sat on the edge of the bed and kissed for a long time. Severus abandoned himself to the feel of her in his arms.

Hours later Severus woke, Lily clasped within his arms. They were completely naked and under the covers of his bed. He recalled the passion with which she had attacked him, setting aside his every protest and attempt to stop. Since he had been aware of such stirrings within him, he had dreamed of something like this with her. She had surpassed his every fantasy two, no, three times.

Shifting around, he looked at her. The cloud of reddish hair was everywhere, and he brushed it gently from her face. He wondered if she would be interested again and kissed her along her hairline.

"Hmm...James..." she sighed as she cuddled closer.

She kissed his throat and stroked his chest, seemingly eager for more, but with whom?

"Not James," he whispered into her ear.

She looked into his face and the contentment he saw there changed to shock and—he looked above her hair. He didn't want to ruin last night by knowing she was horrified. He methodically closed the shutters around his heart as she disentangled herself from his body.

"Severus, I—" She closed her eyes as the events of the previous evening came back to her.

"I understand," he said, finally allowing himself to fully look at her. She was distressed. He tried to make it easy for her. Summoning his robe, he put it on and gathered some things together and then went into the bathroom to allow her some privacy.

"You can come out now," she said after a few minutes.

He came and stood before her. She was dressed and composed.

"Lily, I'm sorry..." he started to say, insincerely.

She shook her head. "You tried to stop several times and I wouldn't let you. You were a great comfort to me, Severus, and I think I took advantage of you. I don't see this going any further, but I want you to know I don't regret it. Thank you, Severus." She leaned up and kissed his cheek and then she was gone.

"Lily...?"

* * *

She pounded on his door early one Sunday morning in late January. He woke and put on a dressing gown, then opened the door, bleary-eyed. "Severus! I know you can fix this. You know a potion, don't you?"

"Wait, Lily. I'm still half asleep. Care for some coffee?"

She followed him into the kitchen. "Coffee would be bad for the—no, I don't want it. I want a potion, one that will solve my problem."

He did not speak as he prepared his coffee. He sat down and took a sip, and then looked at her, where she was slumped at the table. "What problem would that be?"

"A baby."

He spilled the next sip of his coffee all over himself. Cursing, he cleaned up and then looked at her. "Congratulations on your reunion with Potter."

She was tracing the scratches in the surface of the table with her fingernail. "I haven't even seen James since before we—since before you and I—" She looked up and took a deep breath. "Severus, it's your baby."

He had to put the coffee cup down before he did more violence to it or himself. He had remembered and dreamed of each moment of that night with Lily since it happened, treasuring and gently wrapping his memories to keep. They would have to last him a lifetime and he would have to make do with them. The sudden thought that somehow the events of that night would live on brought a new joy to the memories, except that the mother of that life didn't want it.

"And you want to kill it? You hate me that much? You hate me so much that you want me to help you kill my own child?" Had he been asked before this conversation started, Severus Snape would not have considered himself particularly interested in having children of his own. With the reality in his face, however, he was certain that he wanted this child to live and thrive.

She opened and shut her mouth several times before saying, "Please, Severus, you don't understand. I got an owl from James the other day. He wants to see me. I think he wants to get back together."

"Until when, Lily, how long before you fight yet again and break up?" Severus stood. "I see we're going to need to discuss this further. I should go get dressed. I'll be right back down."

He went up the stairs and then entered his bedroom. He rested his head on his tall dresser for a moment, trying to absorb just the possibility of his own child. When he lifted his head, he saw her in the mirror. She was unfastening her robe and moving toward him.

"Just hold me, Severus. It's all so unbelievable."

She maneuvered him to the bed and before he knew it she was kissing him the same way she had at the Three Broomsticks. He had not the chance to absorb that before he realized they were both naked, again, moving against each other in wild abandon. It was over before he really knew it had started and she was holding him to her and saying, "Please, Severus, I know you can make me the potion, please..."

He couldn't breathe. "Did you just fake that whole thing?"

She didn't answer. He looked into her face and saw the slightest bit of shame hiding behind the determination.

"I'm sorry, Lily, I can't. You know what my father was like. I cannot lift a hand against my own child. Somehow, I don't think you want to, either, or you would have taken the coffee I offered."

Once again, he left for a different room, giving her some privacy and space. He wondered how she thought he would change his mind just for sex. Did she really think he would be satisfied with a quick shag and do whatever she wanted? For the first time, he wondered what her relationship with Potter was really like. He was interrupted from his thoughts by the slam of the front door.

* * *

He saw her a few months later, looking beautiful. She seemed fuller and richer to him, somehow. He couldn't be sure, but he thought that maybe she had gone ahead with the pregnancy. He had spent the time in between being elated and sick over the possibilities presented by the baby and her reaction to it. The thought that she had not ended the pregnancy filled him with a subdued joy. He met with a solicitor and quietly wrote up a will to include the possibility.

He saw her again in the spring and then into the summer, with lighter clothes, and it was obvious that she was indeed pregnant. He tried to owl her, to ask her to speak with him, but after the first two, she returned them all, unread. It seemed that his input as father was not wanted; for now he would be content to simply watch from afar and be on hand if she wanted him.

He found her on his doorstep in mid-September. She was still beautiful, but her face looked strained. Her time must come soon, and she was worn with the effort of carrying the baby. He brought her into the house and sat her in his most comfortable seat, helping her to put her feet up. He plied her with what food and drink she would take. Her appetite was minimal since there was little space for anything but the child.

She finally held up her hand to get him to stop fussing over her and spoke. "I wanted you to know that I've decided on a Muggle adoption for the baby. She'll have a great family, the couple sound wonderful, and it's just the simplest thing for everyone."

"We could get married."

Lily shook her head. "I want to go back to James, Severus. He doesn't know about any of this," she said as she waved her hand at her belly. "I've had a lot of time to work through things and I think I'm ready to be with him for good, now. I think I know how to be a good wife, now."

He didn't know how to respond to it. This was the biggest thing that was likely to happen to him, and she wanted to slide it out of the way as if it never existed. He shook his head in disbelief and spent a moment in reflection. He realized it was the best time to ask the question that had haunted him since the day she told him she was pregnant. "Lily, did you fake all of it? Even the night in Hogsmeade?"

She looked at him, her green eyes flickering with emotion. "No, Severus. That night was all genuine. It was incredible and I'm already jealous of the woman you will marry someday."

"That woman could be you."

"Oh, Severus--" Suddenly she gasped as her belly gave a lurch.

"Are you all right?" he asked, coming to her side to assist.

She smiled. "I'm used to it by now. The baby is moving. "Here." She held his hand over the spot where he could feel a small hand or foot sliding along her tummy. He knelt beside her and marveled at the life within her that he had helped to create.

His face was close to hers and their hands were clasped together over their child. He looked into her eyes and kissed her. She gasped, but then kissed him back. She unfastened her robe to allow him access to her bare skin so that he could watch and touch the moving child. They kissed some more, and then some more again.

It took quite a few cushions and some clever positioning, but they were able to make love. Severus was sure that Lily's passion was real, and the look in her eyes assured him that her satisfaction was, as well. He looked after her comfort when they were done, hoping that it would convince her that he could be a good father and husband. She looked up at him tenderly.

"Please, Lily, don't you think we could try it? It seems I've wanted to be your husband all my life, and our child..." He tried not to choke up.

"Maybe," she said, "maybe, Severus, I'll have to think about it."

He had made a nest on the floor of the sitting room with blankets and cushions. It must have been comfortable because she yawned and curled into his body and then went to sleep. They lay that way for hours, until he felt a familiar burn start on his left arm. Kissing his loved one, Severus disentangled himself and started up the stairs to get his robe and mask.

"You can't be going to him, can you?"

"If I don't go, Lily, he will kill me."

"And I can't marry a Death Eater."

"Can we talk about it when I get back?"

"I don't know."

The pain on his arm got stronger and he grimaced. "Please, Lily, just give me a chance. I'll be back as soon as I can." He kissed her forehead.

He had to leave her behind, then. He had hoped for a quick job to do, but instead was taken to a place where he spent over a week doing tasks at the bidding of his master. Lily would be horrified by what he had to do, but the path to greatness was often hard. He hoped she would understand.

* * *

When he returned from his assignment, he found that she had put the cushions and blankets away. She was nowhere in the house. He went to her parents' house and was met at the door by her cross sister.

"She's out with James Potter, warming up the cold soup."

"What about the child?"

"She was a little girl born the nineteenth and given for adoption. I don't think Lily ever looked at her. If it was your kid, I know I wouldn't." With that last blow, Petunia slammed the door in his face.

A week later, Lily was at his door, trying not to smile too much. She and James would marry at the end of October. "I wanted to tell you myself."

"Why so soon, Lily? You've barely recovered--"

"From what, Severus? There is nothing to recover from."

"Giving birth is nothing? I know you don't think much of me, but the child is your daughter, too, Lily."

Her smile faltered, showing itself for the cheap veneer it really was. "All right, I haven't recovered yet. Are you happy? I'm miserable that my baby is gone. I'm happy for her because she will have a marvelous life away from you and me and all of this, but I want my baby. Most of all, I want a baby that I can have with the man I love. I want a baby with James, and I want it as soon as possible. We're going to marry at the end of the month and start trying immediately for a child. I'm sorry, Severus. I know this will give you pain, but I cannot lie to you and tell you I love you. I have enjoyed our passionate moments together but that's all they amount to."

She stood and kissed him and then moved toward the door. He had one last plea. "Why couldn't you let me raise our daughter, then? Can you at least give me the name of her adoptive parents?"

"Severus, I couldn't bear the idea of my child being raised by a Death Eater. The adoption is confidential. I don't think you can get the information about it. Trust me, it's better this way. Farewell, Severus." She walked out the door and out of his life.

* * *

He saw the marriage announcement in the _Prophet_ and when he next saw Lily she was hugely pregnant with his daughter's younger sibling. She seemed delighted with her husband. Her husband obviously worshiped her, which Severus reflected was a consolation. If she had to be taken from him for all time, at least the other man was trying to be worthy of her.

Severus managed to score a huge prize from his master by overhearing and repeating a prophecy. The inheritance his daughter would one day receive got that much larger. His world was slowly coming back together. He would watch and wait. At some point, he knew that the daughter of Lily Evans Potter and Severus Snape would be a student at Hogwarts. It was a safe gamble that she would somehow show her true lineage when she was.

The life Severus built for himself was shown to be a house of cards during the weeks after Harry Potter's birth. It became clear that Voldemort believed that this child was a mortal enemy to him. Severus recoiled at the thought that he himself had carried the information that had put his daughter's brother and mother in danger. He could only turn to one person for help: Albus Dumbledore.

He started a life of true intrigue at that point, working for his first master and yet truly working for and helping his new one. He watched over Lily from afar, willing her to be safe and to be careful. He watched the carelessness of Potter's friends, hoping they wouldn't slip up so badly as to cause disaster.

Disaster eventually came, killing Lily and her husband. Severus wished to die, too. Dumbledore told him that he needed to live and work for the eventual success of Harry Potter. At the mention of the boy, Severus recalled that he really needed to live and work for the future of the boy's sister. He quietly made up his mind and nodded, then went to work.

Years later Harry Potter would arrive at Hogwarts, in the same class as his half sister. Severus scanned the first years list to see if he could identify his daughter by name. He knew she was one of four or five girls listed as Muggle-born, but beyond knowing those girls' names, he could ascertain nothing.

He knew her immediately during her first Potions class. She constantly had her hand up and was only too eager to spout the answer to every question. He was surprised that none of the older teachers had caught on to Lily's self assurance and occasional conceit. He stopped for a minute to think about that assessment on his own part. Was Lily conceited? Odd that he had never before seen her that way.

He watched as the self-assurance developed into a moral confidence in her world view. She became a friend to the oppressed and helpless, even those who didn't want that sort of friendship. She was an inveterate goody-two-shoes, except very occasionally when she wanted to help those oppressed souls she had taken to heart or when her ire was highly raised. At those times she could be quite vengeful, acting quickly and decisively.

She had more of her mother than herself in him, personality wise, but her brilliance in school work was something he could take credit for. He spent hours secretly looking over her marks in every subject, smiling to himself that she would match his own accomplishments. It was a painful delight to teach her Potions, since he wanted to hug her to himself at the end of every brilliant day but dared not divulge what no one else living knew.

She never was as lovely as her mother, taking many of her features from his mother and Petunia of all people, although her own mother's facial expressions were often on her face. She also had a certain social ineptness that he could only claim as his own. Still, on the whole, she was a child in whom a father could be proud.

He watched the girl grow, a mixture of pride and fear mixed in his heart as she learned and developed friendships. Oddly enough, she had gravitated toward her brother. When they were fourth and fifth years, the father knew sleepless nights wondering if they would become romantically entangled and how he would break the news to them that it was an impossibility. Fortunately, and it was a scant bit of fortune; she seemed much more attached to the scion of a family of blood traitors. He wondered in passing if every father of a teenage daughter struggled with her suitors.

He watched his daughter grow, revising his will and making plans for a future when he could divulge to her the story of her true parentage. He worked for his true master and the one he claimed, working toward a day when his daughter's brother could triumph and they could have that future. He did everything the one master asked and appeared to do his best on his other master's demands. The confluence of those orders eventually left him a broken man.

One more year he worked, in solitude, wondering what was going on in the head of his daughter. She surely hated him, he knew, and yet he hoped that when she eventually knew all, she would at least understand what he had done and why. His will received one last revision and he waited for the day that would decide everything.

It wasn't what he expected, having the snake set upon him like that. If he had to die, he deserved to die standing and fighting alongside his true allies, with his true allegiances and motivations known. It was a shameful, deceitful end to a life that had known entirely too much deceit and shame. He lay on a wooden floor, feeling his life ebbing away, and regretted much.

And yet there was one comfort. He was able to carry out the last of Dumbledore's instructions for him. He was able to give Harry Potter the information he would need to finally conquer Voldemort. Further comfort came in the person of the girl looking over Potter's shoulder. As consciousness left him, his sight was held by the green eyes he loved in the face of Lily's son, and the look of concern Lily had always given him, on the face of their daughter.

_Author's Note: Thank you to beta reader, Trickie Woo, who doesn't mind my somewhat odd turns of mind._


	2. How it Continued

_Disclaimer: The characters here and the world they inhabit are the creation and property of JKR._

Several months after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione stalked into the Headmistress's Office at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and slapped a packet of papers onto the desk.

"What, exactly, is the meaning of this?" She was staring at a portrait over the left shoulder of the Headmistress.

The portrait sighed and spoke quietly. "Minerva, it would be a great courtesy if you could give us some privacy."

"I need to see about some shipments, anyway. All this reconstruction... I'll be back in, say, an hour?"

"That should be sufficient." The Headmistress left the office and the portrait stared at the young woman who was shaking with rage.

"It can't possibly be true."

"It can and is. I clouded the truth and obfuscated throughout my entire life, but I never told a direct lie. I certainly wouldn't lie about something like this. Have you seen the memories I gave young Potter?"

She shook her head. "Harry told me what was in them, but I haven't actually looked."

The portrait guided her to the cabinet where the Pensieve and the vial she had conjured both lay. He waited while she looked at those memories.

"What is in there, Severus?" asked the portrait of Albus Dumbledore, unable to keep quiet any longer.

"You know about most of what is in those memories. There are others she must see, too. There is something I took with me almost to the grave, Albus. Only one person living deserves to know the whole truth, and only she may tell others, as she chooses to do."

"That one person is Hermione?"

"Yes."

The girl herself reappeared after a few minutes. "That's all well and good, but it doesn't prove anything."

"Of course it doesn't: however, what I gave to Potter provides some background." He told her how to put the memories back into the vial and then how to find another vial hidden in a secret compartment. "This will show you exactly what happened, or rather, what you should see of it."

Hermione dove into the Pensieve again and watched Lily Evans eat dinner with Severus Snape at the Three Broomsticks. She stood at their shoulders as they kissed under the mistletoe and watched them move into the bedroom. After passing through a swirling mist, she saw them part the next morning and the anguish on Snape's face as Lily left.

She viewed the scene in the kitchen and bedroom where Lily told Severus of her pregnancy and her desire to end it. She saw that while he didn't work to prevent ending the pregnancy he refused to participate by giving her a potion. She watched as the scene shifted to later and the heavily pregnant Lily spoke with Severus of adoption. Hermione watched him answer the call to the Dark Lord's side that separated her parents forever.

Hermione saw the man who was her father stand and speak with the woman who must be Harry's—and her own—Aunt Petunia before Petunia slammed the door in his face. She listened to the last conversation between her parents. Then she saw the look in her father's face as he sat in his library and wept.

Finally, Hermione saw short instances from her own education at Hogwarts. Where she had thought the Potions Master had been grim, stoic, and sarcastic, she learned that at times he was jubilant, proud, worried and concerned, all because of her. She found that he admired her scholarship while he worried that she would become insufferably conceited. He was glad she found good friends although it galled him that one was the son of his enemy. Most of all, she found that he was extremely proud of the way she worked to bring down Voldemort even as he feared desperately for her life.

Hermione came out of the Pensieve and looked at the portrait again. "I accept it, but it's all so strange. Am I the only one who knows? What will Harry say? What should I call you?"

"What would you like to call me? I'm hardly in a position to make demands or have hurt feelings, as rarely as we are likely to converse."

"I'd like to stick to 'Professor,' at least for the time being. I have my parents to consider."

"Yes, that seems fair to me. Have you spoken with them since the solicitors visited you?"

"Not yet; you're sure it's me?"

"I was unable to trace you until you came to Hogwarts. Once I knew it was you, I was able to track the proper records and confirm it to my satisfaction. I didn't want to go against _her_ wishes and speak with your parents directly though. More recently, I was occupied by other business."

Father and daughter exchanged a grim smile at this last comment.

"I'll be speaking with them, then. They're still a bit confused after their year long sabbatical in Australia. I guess I'll want to speak to Petunia Dursley as well."

"Give her my regards, but I suggest waiting until the end of your conversation. It wouldn't do as an ice-breaker."

"Do you mind if I tell others?"

"I'm not in a position to argue and neither is she. We can hardly die of embarrassment at this point. I would suggest a certain amount of discretion for your own sake. You wouldn't want to find yourself tainted with my infamy."

"More likely I'd be accused of trying to tag onto your heroism. You've become quite a romantic object, you know."

"I'm glad I died without knowing the shame of _that_."

They exchanged an actual snort of laughter that time.

"I just meant that I would like to tell Ron and... and Harry." Hermione stumbled as she realized what this would mean to Harry Potter.

"You should confide in your closest friends as need be, but that will take a great deal of care and delicacy, I think. Neither Potter nor Weasley are fans of mine."

"Harry sees you differently than he did, but this--" Hermione waved to the papers. "--changes some things. He will see you differently yet again. He has such romantic notions of his parents."

"I've worked for eighteen years not to disturb those notions, Hermione. It would have caused me endless bother. It's up to you to decide how to approach that."

There was a knock on the door and the Headmistress came back into the room. "May I have my office back, please?" she asked acerbically. "Some of us are still expected to work around here."

"Certainly, Professor, er, Headmistress. Thank you very much. Thank you, too, Professor." Hermione grabbed her papers and waved to the portrait and then left the office. She had a great deal of thinking to do, and a little research. If Professor Snape could find the correct records, she could do so, too.

The portrait of Albus Dumbledore spoke up. "Severus, now that it's been pointed out, it seems so obvious. How could the rest of us have missed it?"

The portrait of Headmaster Snape snorted. "The idea would have been preposterous to you all. Everyone shared the same romantic notions of the Potters that their son has. So many years after the fact, no one remembers that they broke up over insignificant things for months at a time."

The current Headmistress cut in. "Am I allowed to know what is going on?"

"No," answered several of the portraits together.

"Only one person alive has the right to tell you, I'm afraid, Minerva," elaborated Snape, "and she has much to think about before she tells anyone."

* * *

Hermione reached out her hand to knock on the door and drew it back again. Finally, telling herself to stop being silly, she reached out and gave a sharp rap. As she waited for the door to open, she thought again of the conversation with her parents.

Hermione's mum cried when she realized that Hermione knew she was adopted. However, both her parents had known for some time that her special skills must have to do with her birth parents. When she had first gone to Hogwarts they lived in constant fear that she would come home in anger, demanding answers as her family would surely introduce themselves. As the years had gone by and this did not happen, they started to hope it never would.

She had reassured them that she thought of them as her parents. As both of her birth parents were now deceased, there was no likely competition from them for her affections. They had a nice long talk, then, about how desperately the Grangers had wanted a little girl of their own and how she was an answer to prayer.

The door opened a crack.

"Mrs. Dursley?" Hermione's voice was squeakier than she would have liked.

"Yes."

"I'm the researcher who called you this week."

"About the photo spread? Yes, come in."

The house was as immaculate as the other time Hermione had been in it, the night Harry was moved to the Burrow. She looked around the sitting room. "It _is_ a lovely home."

"But you're not here from a magazine, are you?"

Startled, Hermione looked up. "What makes you say that?"

"You don't look like either of them, but you have her mannerisms. She did that same thing, trying to look directly in someone's eye when she was nervous and not quite managing it." Petunia looked with narrowed eyes at Hermione. "You have just a look of his mother, and my own, perhaps. I suppose that awful boy told you all about it?"

"If you're referring to Severus Snape, Professor and Headmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, I have the unhappy task to inform you he's dead. Harry and I were there. We saw Voldemort kill him, but not before the Professor was able to give Harry the information he needed to end Voldemort's life for good. I only found out when his will went to probate."

"The man who killed my sister is dead, then?" Petunia's face took on a grim satisfaction at Hermione's nod. "So what do you want from me?"

"Please, I didn't really know either of them. You, at least, knew them as children and saw them together. I just want some background, to piece things together."

The grim, angular face softened just a bit and the eyes looked at the young woman with something that approached compassion. "Well, to start with, your mother was always my parents' favorite, pretty as she was..."

* * *

"So it was all confirmed?"

This time Hermione made an appointment to visit with the portrait in the Headmistress's office. She nodded to the picture of the man she now accepted as her father. "The records were exactly as you said, my... parents told me how it happened from their end, and Petunia Dursley confirmed everything. She even said I have Lily's—my mother's—mannerisms." She sighed at the memory of her last hope dashed in Little Whinging.

"I'm sorry that this has caused you hurt."

"You are, aren't you?" The most startling aspect of this was the realization that her professor—her father—really had an emotional attachment in this situation.

"It's not how I would have done any of it. Lily could be so stubborn and difficult when she decided that something was the right way of doing things. Every issue was a hill to die upon."

"And for you, nothing was worth dying for," the daughter said, spiritedly.

"Not quite," answered the father. "I would have given my life to preserve hers the night she and Potter died, and I would have given my life much sooner for your safety if I had to do so. Perhaps my morality has been too flexible, but her lack of flexibility is the reason we are here as we are, now."

"Would you have wanted her to become a Death Eater like yourself?"

"That was never my wish. I realized later that we should have gone to Dumbledore and worked out the solution I eventually ended up with, anyway. Regardless, I would have given just about anything to raise you, myself."

"Did my parents do such a bad job on me?" Tears stung Hermione's eyes.

"No, you're a young woman to be proud of raising. I'm proud just to have had the small input I have. There are times though, that is there were times, when I would have done anything to raise you as my daughter for the world to see. Especially once you came to Hogwarts and you were so talented, even before you started classes."

"My parents expected you to come forward while I was a student. Why didn't you?"

"It wasn't what Lily wanted."

"You must have really loved her, even then, to have set aside your own wishes like that."

"Always."

* * *

Ron Weasley looked at the young woman sitting in front of him. He knew and loved every one of the brown hairs on her head, every contour of her face, but she was suddenly a stranger. She was no longer a Muggle-born witch, no longer just the smartest, brightest witch of her age, no longer quite _his_ Hermione.

"All this time, you've been _his_ daughter?!" This explosion was not unexpected, but was hardly an auspicious beginning.

"What am I supposed to do, Ron? I can't help who my parents are. It doesn't change anything, though."

"It changes everything. Your father was a Death Eater, the greatest Death Eater of them all."

"My father was a hero! He gave everything up for the sake of those who wanted to stop the Death Eaters forever! He even gave up _me_!"

"He caused your mother's death."

"That was never his intention, and he regretted it forever afterwards."

"You've always stood up for him, haven't you? Ever since the beginning, you've made excuses for the things Harry and I caught him doing."

"And I've always been right about it, too, haven't I?"

A stony silence followed. Hermione looked up and saw that Ron's face was still furious, covered in ugly red blotches that clashed with his hair. She silently begged him to—what? She hadn't done anything requiring forgiveness. She merely informed him of the circumstances of her birth. They had been discussing marriage. A prospective husband should know these things about his future wife. She made a decision and stood up.

"I'll leave you be. Nothing is really different, Ron. I love you and I'm still the person you always knew. You know how to find me when you want me."

"Good luck telling Harry," Ron muttered nastily.

"It would be better luck if you actually meant it when you said it." She walked to the fireplace and was gone.

* * *

Harry Potter didn't think he could ever again learn anything about Professor Snape that would surprise him. Hermione surprised him. She had gone straight from the Burrow to number 12, Grimmauld Place, deciding to get both difficult interviews over at the same time.

Unlike Ron, Harry was thoughtful. Hermione could see that this disturbed him greatly, but he was trying not to overreact. "I have to know, Hermione," he said first, "you are convinced this is true?"

She nodded. "Along with the will and the private letter that accompanied it, I checked the public records myself. I spoke with my parents, the portrait in McGonagall's office... and with Petunia Dursley."

Harry gave out a hollow laugh. "You bearded _that_ lioness in her den?"

"Yes. I wanted to do a complete job of it before I told anyone. She was pretty personable, actually. She mentioned that she wouldn't mind if you dropped by once or twice, just to let her know you're okay."

"I've known since fifth year that my parents didn't have the great romance with love at first sight and all, but this, Hermione..."

"I know, but it seems that your parents had a tendency to quarrel and break up before they got married. During one of those times she ran into—my father—and it just sort of happened. He showed me his memory of that in a Pensieve."

"How did _that_ work?"

"He had set it aside for me, knowing that I would one day ask. He showed me other memories from the next nine months, too. She wanted nothing more than to get back together with your father the whole time. I was sort of," Hermione sighed sadly, "an inconvenience."

"Don't say it like that, Hermione. Somehow it makes it worse." Harry sat next to her on the couch and put his arm around her. "I don't know what to say or think about any of this. It's all too strange, but some things fit well, too."

"Like what?"

"Well, Sirius always said that Snape came to Hogwarts first year knowing more curses than most seventh years. You arrived knowing more magic than most of the kids at school, too. You were excellent at potions, too." He gave a small smile. "It fits that we should have been drawn together, as brother and sister, but never like boyfriend and girlfriend. From what little I know of her, I think my—our—Mum is glad we became such good friends."

"So you think we'll be all right, Harry?"

"It's hard to say. I need to think about this, you know, but I'm pretty sure we'll be fine with this. It's just a sort of way of proving that we were always meant to be good friends. It even sorts out some things with Snape, actually."

"Thanks, Harry."

* * *

Hermione Weasley never remembered that year as the one in which the world reconstructed itself after the final fall of Voldemort. She never remembered the hours of studying that went into N.E.W.T. testing for the students whose education had been interrupted. She didn't remember much about that round of interviews and media attention.

Hermione would forever recall discovering that she had a witch and wizard as her parents. She remembered the way Ron finally came to grips with her parentage, deciding that she was still the girl and young woman he had loved almost since the time they helped Harry find the Philosopher's Stone. She remembered how sweet and supportive Harry usually was, except when he couldn't stop thinking that his parents might not have been as in love as everyone said. The picture of perfect love that had gotten Harry through childhood was shattered. The new picture he came to have, of a less perfect love but greater effort and reward, served him better in the long run.

Snape's daughter spent long weekends at her father's house in Spinner's End, sorting through his books. She kept some while others she donated to the Restricted Section of the Hogwarts Library. Every so often she found a keepsake such as a lock of reddish hair or a daisy that could only have come from the park up the road where her parents had met. There were a couple of notes from Lily on classes or to arrange study sessions. Hermione shared all these things with Harry and the two finally decided to burn them, choosing to let their various parents keep their own memories.

Several years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione became the wife of Ron Weasley. That was the year she sold the finally empty house at Spinner's End and disposed of the last items that had been boxed up in the former Potion Master's quarters. She had finally decided what to do with the bulk of her inheritance from her father.

A year later, the press was invited to visit a rather modest home in London, near Diagon Alley. Hermione had discovered, in the course of training in magical law and researching her own records, that many children were in difficult circumstances. Some were orphans like her brother, and others were abused like her father. She found a childless couple willing to manage the house and guide boys and young men who needed a safe home. This did not help young witches, but perhaps with the success of this endeavor, the girls' home would soon follow.

The reporters from the _Daily Prophet_ and the _Quibbler_ were quite impressed with the young woman who had been named Executrix of Severus Snape's estate. They teared up with her as she described the plight of young wizards who were orphaned or abused. They cheered when she dedicated the home in honor of Severus Snape.

Information about the home had leaked out and several benefactors had made it possible to establish an endowment. Hermione sat down for some shrewd dealing with the goblins of Gringotts, with her brother in law, Bill, acting as her advocate. At the end of that meeting, she had arranged a promising rate of interest. The home's endowment would enable it to be self-sustaining for years. New donations would enable the trustees to enlarge the principal and make the opening of a girls' home in the near future that much more certain.

Ron Weasley stood a little to the side and watched the day's celebrations with great satisfaction. He had many accomplishments in his own young life but was quite proud of the woman he loved, who shared it all with him. He admired her passion for those less fortunate, occasionally wondering if it had initially drawn her to him. He respected her brilliance, which had helped him at school and still helped him at work from time to time. He couldn't help but respond to her devotion and love, which somehow knew when to argue with him and when to soothe his ruffled feathers. She was the sum of her parents and yet more besides. As Hermione bantered with Rita Skeeter, Ron could just make out the slight roundness under his wife's robe. Before long another person would be in their family, a person who would likely be very much like both of them and yet more besides.

_A/N: Thank you, kind readers and reviewers Artika, and duckrebel. To debjunk, thank you for the kind review and thoughtful correspondence on the subject of SS/HG fics. As I think you suggested, the story likely does continue from here, but I leave it up to others to decide what happens next. To excessivelyperky, thank you for the kind review and thoughtful correspondence on SS/LE and HG in general._

_Thank you very much to beta reader Mark Darcy._

_A special shout out goes to the Amazing One-Shots C2 for picking this story up. I don't know if a two-shot qualifies. I had intended to make this a one shot, but as I finished it, bits of the second chapter simply came to me and my beta reader really wanted to see where it went from there, too. If your rules require that my story leave your C2, I fully understand._


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